Listen to Don't Call Me Up by Mabel

Diane Jewel

Coma.

Co. 

Ma.

Whispers of the word attacked me as I walked into the college campus, one week after Dixie fell into her unwakable sleep.  From every direction, pitying eyes grew on my face.  I squirmed under their gazes, clutching my bag against the violent beating of my chest.  

Slowly, my ears blocked the word and blurred the syllables until I heard nothing but my heart pulsing at my ear.  

That was until a sudden arm grabbed my shoulder.  I flinched at the touch, turning around.  

A brunette from Poetry Club stood in front of me with wide, assessing eyes.  Her mouth moved in slow motion, but my ears couldn't pick the sound.

My own voice sounded distant to me.  "Wh-what?"  

"Are you okay, Diane?" she said, louder this time.  

Gulping the lump in my throat, I tried to nod.  "I think so.  Thanks, Mia."  With the words, the reality of Dixie's coma came rushing back to me.  My weak knees jerked, followed by the sound of my bag thumping to the floor.   

With a small gasp, Mia steadied me.  "Listen, you look sick.  Let me take you to-"

"No, no!" I blurted, picking up my bag, already hurrying away from her.  "I...I'm okay," I said, breaking into a run.  

The wind slapped my face as I felt the tears welling up at my eyes.  People turned to stare, but that only made my legs move faster.  I only stopped when I was safe inside a restroom cubicle.  

With an uncontrollable moan, I cupped my teary face as I sank onto the toilet seat.   

Why the fuck did this happen to me?  I needed Dixie.  I'm just gonna die without her. 

_

Everybody knew my name.  Everybody suddenly knew the name of the girl who lingered with pretty Lena James. I was in the spotlight today and it was depressing.  Any other day, I would have probably been happy. 

But today wasn't that day. Just when I shook off one person's pity, a new one drowned me again.  I passed the whispering corridors to the final class before lunch, only to ignite a new set of whispers in the classroom.

Simon was seated towards the back. When he saw me, his face lighted up like a bulb. He motioned me to come to the seat next to his.

I didn't want to.

I looked around the seat I usually took to find the girls who sit on either side of me staring. I decided I would take Simon's offer and walked to him.

"Ola," he muttered when I sat beside him.

I nodded my head in acknowledgement, eyes focused stiffly on the blackboard straight across from me. I tried my best to ignore the people that ruthlessly scanned me. I bit into my tongue, slowly but steadily till I tasted blood. I bit at another spot. Then another. 

Pictures of Dixie lying painfully peaceful in the white hospital bed, surrounded by white-tiled walls lamented my head.  An uneasy feeling lingered in my heart.  White and squeaky clean is all she wanted.  What if she just surrendered in her white hospital room?

Shit, Diane? Stop thinking shit.

"Dy," Simon's arm reached out to nudge my shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

"No."

He waited patiently for more. I clenched my teeth until they hurt. It felt like my teeth would break if I pressured any harder. I didn't say anything.

I just didn't know what I wanted.

I wanted to be left alone.

But a tiny part of me whispered that I wanted to be held in someone's arm. I needed some love? I suppressed them, but I think they resisted back.

Or was I not crushing it strong enough?

I clenched my teeth further.

"Where's Lena?" I asked, my voice coming out shaky and small.

"Haven't seen her," Simon replied. I could tell that he was getting more and more concerned as every second passed. I didn't want him to. "You wanna talk? You don't look okay."

I wished he would leave me alone already. But what I clearly knew was that you cannot hurt someone that is anxious for you. I have seen Dixie watching movies purely built on people pushing away someone that cares about them.

"Simon?" I called, genuinely taking an effort to make him understand. I didn't want to shout at him. "I don't want to talk about anything now."

I waited for him to scoff or something. But he didn't do or say anything.  I turned to him.  His dark hair fell on tranquil eyes that assessed me with distant caution.  Simon wasn't an ideally attractive guy, but up close he looked fine.  When I think about it, he'd always looked fine, up close or not.  He wasn't heavily built like the football players, but he looked healthy and the grey shirt he wore showed off the pulsing muscles on his biceps.   

He smiled.  "That's okay.  Just know that I'm right here."

A boy in front of us turned with a coy smile.  "Stop flirting with girls, Simon," he teased.  

There was a stunned silence before Simon hissed.  "Dude, go away.  I talk to one girl and you-"

"Okay, fine," the boy with curly brown hair said, putting his hands up in surrender.  Then he turned to me with a friendly smile.  "Hey!  I'm Bram.  Simon's mate."

"I know your name, Bram."

He droned on.  "Hey, you know, Simon has told me a lot about yo-Ouch!"  A shoe kicked another under the desk.  Bram stole a glare at the boy beside me.

For a moment, I felt a ghost of a smile on my lips.  Simon talks about me to his friends?  

I only remembered that everyone has had their camera-eyes zoomed on me when the whispers died. I looked up to see the teacher enter and smack her book on the desk. Chalkdust flew around her for a couple of seconds like a powder whirlpool.

Her wavy blonde hair that reached down her shoulders, and the big, round glasses immediately reminded me of Dixie.  As if there was a fire under my seat, I shot up.  

My knees quivered.  I slapped a hand on my chest, struggling to control the sporadic breaths that had taken over my body.  

Simon's voice that called me sounded so far away, yet so close.  

The professor's eyes narrowed at me.  

"Can I...Ugh..," I wheezed.  "I feel...weird.  Can I take a break?"  

I waited only for a startled nod, before dashing away from the suffocating classroom, full of Dixie's reminders.

_

I couldn't remember how long I spent in an empty classroom, staring at the blackboard in front of me.  The little Xs and Ys on the scribbled math equations would forever stay in the folds of my brain.

I had recollected my breath, but the weight in my chest kept pulling me down.  

A startled gasp escaped my mouth when a figure walked into the room, carrying the bag I'd forgotten in my previous class.  "Simon!"  

He wordlessly walked into the classroom and sat beside.  I turned away from him to hide my tear-striken face.  

After a long minute, I heard him speak.  "You left your bag in the class."  He pushed the limp bag towards me.  "I know you told me that you didn't want to talk about it.  That's okay.  But I hope you don't mind me sitting here with you."

I hung my head, not meeting his eyes.  

Another heavy silence settled between us.  

Without Dixie, I felt incredibly weak, like a ton of "weakness" covered in candy wrappers and mercilessly hurled at me.  

Slowly, I opened my mouth to speak.  "You know, I've been depending on my causing for every single thing in my life without even realizing it.  I can't even cook for fuck's sake."  I dug my nails into the wood of the desk.  

Simon paused for a thoughtful moment, shifting uneasily beside me.  "I'm sorry...Dy.  I don't know what to tell you."

I shrugged, facing him for the first time.  "And I've gotta meet the college counsellor after my classes.  As if that would change anything..."

Frowning, I stared at my lap again.  Why was this so fucking hard?  Is there any way to escape this?

Simon scratched the back of his neck.  "See, maybe you should go talk to the counsellor," he started.  "The college is spending money to make you feel better.  What's a nicer gesture than that?"

I narrowed my eyes.  "I don't need counselling," I stated.  

"I know, I know..," he said, moving his hands in the air to explain.  "But why don't you see the counsellor as a human for once...You see, I have no idea how to comfort you, right?  Maybe...just maybe you can be more open to a stranger about how you're feeling.  You might feel better if you spill everything...Maybe," he said again. 

When I met his eyes, they shone with hope.  "You think so?"

"Yeah!" he confidently said, smiling.  "Give it a shot.  I just want you to feel good.  Oh also!" he inserted before I could say a word.  "If your friend Lena doesn't turn up by lunch time, will you eat with me?"

Please vote and make me smile

Question: What's your favourite genre?

Ik I suck at writing romance. Ik that I shouldn't be even trying. It took me so long to write this chapter.

(edit- okay, I put some extra effort in finding resources that would help write better romance.  I think I'm doing better than before)